1. We get to pick up our Honda Fit tomorrow. They called yesterday afternoon and we did a happy dance. Catholic Social Services showed up to haul away the couch in our garage so we're busy readying its nest. Maybe it's a lair not a nest. It's a garage anyway.
2. Yesterday I went to pick the kids up from school. Everyone came out except Mo. This is a reoccurring problem. Literally, everyone had come out of the building. I left all my other charges and went after my lost little lamb. When he saw me walk into the room he about crumpled onto the floor. He was so sad. He knows that if I have to come in and get him that he doesn't get to have a snack after school. Desperate times call for desperate measures. I just will not stand out in the cold with three other kids and wait 10 minutes for him. He had his coat on. He was holding two sweat shirts, his snow pants, his library book, and his zipped up backpack filled to the brim with who-knows-what. He cried and cried. By the time we got out of the (long deserted) building he was in a full fit. Screaming and yelling and mad.
After snack they went across the street to roller skate/skate board in the church parking lot because it was nice out. But in a span of 10 minutes everyone had come back to the house twice. Now, it's not a busy street and they are all very good about crossing it -- one of the older kids always goes with Ollie. They really do a good job, but the running back and forth and back and forth is not okay with me. So I said the next time they crossed back to our side they stayed there. Phoebe got mad at Ollie and came back over--somehow thinking my rule would not apply to her -- and had a total freak out when she found out she was wrong. A knock down drag out "you're so unfair!" fit.
Ollie came in and...well...I don't even remember what it was. He didn't get his way somehow and chucked whatever toy he was holding at me (a glow in the dark rubber lizard, I think). I remained calm and asked him to go to his room. At first he yelled "No!" and then he started in with some sort of goofy slo-mo notwalk. I finally chased him in there and he banged around and yelled for about ten minutes.
By the time Paul got home I was ready to BAIL. Thankfully, it was time for my big soup supper gig and I bolted. And when I got home everyone was delightful. I had to take a deep breath and be happy they were happy instead of saying, "Does anyone remember how terrible you were a couple hours ago? Because I do and I want restitution."
And we did have a nice evening. We played a round of Pass the Pigs and read a chapter of Prince Caspian. Good times.